


i hold a banner for you (it's upside down)

by American_Pandora



Series: a letter made of scarlet [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: AU, Aegon V AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe- Fix it, Canon Gay Characters, Cousin Incest, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other, aegon v kids in canon were little shits, canon gay characters marrying women, canon typical underage, except Rhaelle who did her goddamn duty, forced coming out of gay characters, targaryen expected incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 06:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8522110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/American_Pandora/pseuds/American_Pandora
Summary: that AU where Aegon V's kids do as they're goddamn told, through the eyes of Rhaelle Targaryen





	1. roots of responsibility

**Author's Note:**

> " _The greatest gifts you can give your children are the roots of responsibility and the wings of independence._ " Denis Waitley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Duncan," Rhaelle cautioned, "what are you doing?" 
> 
> Her brother- caught- straightened his back and turned around slowly, stiffly.

Duncan had been obsessed with songs and stories his whole life. When Rhaelle was seven, and he fourteen, she came upon her brother, drunk for the first time on Arbor Gold and truth. 

"Father named me after Ser Duncan, his dearest friend, one of the greatest knights of the realm, but people whisper to each other in the streets, 'What has the Prince Duncan done that some hedge knight has not? What songs shall we sing about him?'" He sniffled. Rhaelle, hurting to see her brother hurt, offered to write one up herself and sing it from the parapets of every castle in the Seven Kingdoms, from the cliffs of Dorne to the icy top of The Wall.

Duncan had laughed, eyes red and soul weepy. "It's not truly about the songs, sweet sister. It is about the legacy." 

It continues on this way for many years- until one day, it doesn't. 

When Duncan comes back to the Red Keep after a dual purpose tour through the Riverlands and visit with their Mother's family and isn't melancholy, Rhaelle is immediately suspicious. 

Daeron agrees, and it makes Rhaelle a little relieved, because he is a _boy_ and Father will listen if Daeron says something, instead of just laughing her off like Jaehaerys and Shaera do when she brings it up. 

(But then, Jaehaerys and Shaera are blind to the world around them, that does not involve the other, to an almost sickening degree.) 

Rhaelle never expects for Daeron to burst into her room one night, though. "Duncansinlovewithapeasantgirlandheplanstorunawaytonightandmarryher!" He manages to get out in a single breath. Lanai Blackwood, their cousin and Rhaelle's best friend, looks at him with her mouth agape as he doubles over, panting. 

With a stern order to Lanai to stay there, Rhaelle slips on a nightgown over her shift and all but flies to Duncan's room. 

It's a punch in the gut, throwing open the door to his room to see all his belongings scattered about. 

"Dunk?" She inquires, hating the tears in her voice that threaten to fall. Duncan, the sword Mother and Father had gifted him with when he'd been knighted in hand- he'd named it Blacktooth- turns around slowly. 

Out of all her siblings, Duncan looks the most like their mother, with his curly dark hair and dark, dark eyes. 

But when he experiences great emotion, his eyes turn the color of a great and terrible storm, and it is easier to see that Targaryen purple, reflected among obsidian. 

"Duncan," Rhaelle cautioned, "what are you doing?" 

Her brother- caught- straightened his back and turned around slowly, stiffly. 

"You should leave, Rhaelle." He reaches a hand out in a non-threatening way, voice calm and steady like one would approach a wounded animal. Rhaelle, having been raised in court and no stranger to sharp tongues, turns her head and hisses, "Why? So you can run back to the Riverlands and whatever peasant girl you've found that put this insanity into your head?" 

"Rhaelle," Duncan pleads with her, "I love her!" 

"And what is it that you love about her? What's her name?" Rhaelle challenges, face screwing up to prevent the falling of tears. 

Duncan's face lights up- and it twists at her heart, because she is _eleven_ and knows this cannot be, they do not live in a world where people marry for love, with the rare exception of her parents- and the words can't seem to come out of him fast enough. "Her name's Jenny, she's from Oldstones, she has this bright red hair, like a flame and mesmerizing blue eyes like the sky, she has seen four and twenty years, and she can do magic! She's a woodswitch but more, Relle, she's wonderful...!" 

"Oh, yes, because a marriage built on magic is certainly going to impress Mother and Father! The highborn and lowborn alike will certainly be impressed by a queen who's a bloody witch!" Rhaelle shrieks. 

A voice that stops both Rhaelle and Duncan's hearts for a moment pipes up behind them. "No, no, Duncan, go back to the part about her 'bright red hair, like a flame and mesmerizing blue eyes like the sky.' And she's six years older than you, you say? Is that what you prefer, Duncan Targaryen? Or should I bow before you, like a girl who has not all but grown up next to you, a girl who has never even seen a highborn lord and stammer, and address you as 'my prince?' I mean, I cannot do anything about my own black hair or blue eyes that are more stormy sky than clear day, and I'm sorry if that is not to your taste, but I suppose that is what mistresses are for, isn't it? You get to hand pick those, or so I'm told." Jessa Baratheon leans against the door in a Baratheon yellow silk sleeping gown, the only sign of her agitation a rhythm the fingers of her right hand tap on the left arm she'd crossed over her chest. 

Her eyes, though, were the epitome of her house words. ' _Ours is the fury, indeed._ ' Rhaelle thought. 

It crossed her mind, to be concerned for her brother for a moment, before she remembered her brother was an idiot and deserved this. Plus, Ser Warryck Celtigar, a member of the Kingsguard, stood only a little down the hall. 

Face red, Duncan turns to look at her. "Rhaelle, you should go." 

"I'm perfectly inclined to think she should stay. She's grown up in this court, she knows what happens between a man and a woman, she obviously has enough sense to try and talk you out of whatever folly you're attempting to commit. Have you even thought about anyone else, Duncan?" Jessa crosses the hazard that her brother has made of his bedchamber and sits primly on the edge of his bed

Duncan wilts under her words. The air is tense and heavy like the afternoon before an impending summer storm over the Blackwater.

Then winces at the appearance of Father, who materializes out of thin air like one of the many phantoms that haunt the Red Keep.

"What in the world is going on here?" Father's voice roars out, storming into Duncan's chambers. Ser Duncan the Tall- truly, Father's oldest friend (except maybe Uncle Aemon, who is on the wall)- is not long behind, and neither are Mother or Daeron. 

"Oh, nothing, Fa-" Duncan starts, at the exact moment Jessa pips up, brightly, "Oh, nothing, Your Grace. We were just discussing mistresses and their role in a royal household." She is still seated at the edge of Duncan's bed, ankles crossed. "I thought I might as well go ahead and lay down my expectations, since we're to be married in a few short moons."

Daeron guffaws, and Rhaelle remembers something she overheard in Court, once. 

"The seven hells hath no fury like that of a highborn woman scorned." She whispers.

This has the unwanted side affect of reminding (or alerting to) her father that she is, in fact, in the room. 

Between clenched teeth, Father spits out, "Ser Theobold, would you mind escorting Daeron and Rhaelle to their chambers, please. And make sure that they stay there." 

She and Daeron go to protest- open their mouths at the same time, even- but Mother and Father both shoot them a warning look. Father's says, ' _Do not cross me right now or I will send you to the Black Cells, by the Gods_ ' and Mother's says ' _Do not cross your Father right now or by the Old Gods he will send you to the Black Cells._ '

Daeron lets out a sigh, Rhaelle pouts, and Ser Theobold Hightower marches them to their chambers. 

Lanai is asleep when she enters, and while Rhaelle normally is grateful for her cousin, whose vivaciousness helps fill her large, empty bed chamber, she would much rather be alone with her thoughts today. 

At least her cousin isn't hogging all the blankets. 

* * *

_two months later_

Jessa walks down the aisle of the Great Sept of Baelor, looking every inch the queen she will one day be. Her maiden's clock- heavy, in black velvet and yellow silk- is so long that it requires four maidens to help hold it up. The honor falls to Jessa's sisters- Gwyneira and Hyndi- as well as Rhaelle and her older sister, Shaera. Lord Lyonel Baratheon, known to the Seven Kingdoms as The Laughing Storm, is barely able to hold back tears as he removes the maiden cloak from his daughter's neck. His heir Ormund is much the same.

(Rhaelle is sure she sees one slip from the great lord's left eye when the Targaryen cloak, heavy black velvet with red silk rubies sewn on to look like scales, is placed around Jessa's neck by Duncan. Lady Sabine Baratheon- Jessa's mother and a Connington by birth- smiles even as tears stream down her face.)

The new couple repeats the Seven Blessings and the Seven Vows before their hands are bound together with white silk ribbon, and the High Septon proclaims them one in the sights of God and Men. 

There is a lunch feast, and then the start of a tourney. They go through the first few rounds of jousting- and Rhaelle thinks that, maybe, Duncan looks happy next to his bride.

That night, before the start of their wedding feast, Lady Jessa Baratheon Targaryen is crowned with Princess Jocelyn Baratheon Targaryen's crown. (Jocelyn would have been the first Baratheon queen, had Aemon not died before his father Jaeherys the First did and left only a daughter, a girl named Rhaenys.) It's beautiful, made of gold that looks as yellow as the Baratheon colors and is studded with obsidian. Jessa has changed from her buttercream yellow gown with the black threading to a red silk gown, with black and gold threading that Rhaelle will despair to see torn apart in the bedding.

It is a look for a Baratheon Queen. 

* * *

_Years later, when Rhaelle's heart breaks for the first time, and she is half drunk on Arbor Gold and sorrow, she will ask her good sister about Jenny of Oldstones. Jessa will have had three children by then, two of them sons, one at her very breast the moment the question escapes her lips. Nursing Durran (who is all Baratheon coloring except for the eyes that look blue and purple, like pieces of colored glass over one another) Jessa turns to the window. "I was dismissed shortly after you were, so I have no idea what was said. But I went back to your brother's room right as the sun rose that morning, to find him sitting in the middle of his room. I must have watched him for near an hour before I spoke. And I told him this- he could marry me, and he could bring this Jenny girl to King's Landing, not to court, but put her in a manse... He could give an heir and a spare for me to birth, and he would never have to share my bed again if he did not so desire. But he could not get any bastards on her until after I had had his legitimate trueborn heirs. And if he did get any bastards on that girl, he could not legitimize them. He could acknowledge them, but not legitimize them. The last thing I will have is my son's throne threatened. The realm is still dealing with the mess left by Aegon the Unworthy and the Blackfyre pretenders." Jessa crossed the room and laid Durran down in his cot. Her goodsister looks at her with a brittle smile, "We wrote our agreement down, used our seals and two witnesses. Ser Duncan signed, as did your Uncle Aemon, when he came to the wedding. Four copies of it exist. One at Storm's End, one with Ser Duncan, one hidden in my rooms here, and on at The Wall." Rhaelle, having never been drunk before, throws up shortly after and goes to lie down._

_It does not occur to her until quite a few years later when, recollecting on that conversation with her husband, she remembers Jessa nursing Durran, the spare to Duncan's heir, Aemon. And she remembers that Duncan was in the Riverlands visiting their cousin, Benton Blackwood, who had just been made Lord of Raventree Hall, and that the trip did take longer than it was originally supposed to._


	2. a sinner I am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything in Rhaelle shudders then, she does not want to see this, it is naught but a nightmare, _they are not the mad Targaryens...!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " _Loving him is a sin; of that I am fully aware. But a sinner I am._ " Bella Jewel, _Number Thirteen_

In a scene that would truly have been a scandal had it not been extremely well covered up (thanks to Princess Jessa's ferocity, Rhaelle thinks, heightened only by the babe she carries in her belly) Rhaelle and Jessa walk in on Jaehaerys and Shaera, naked, their clothes in a pile halfway between them and the door. Rhaelle and her goodsister (who she quite adored) were walking in the tower, having both long ago tired of the feast celebrating Daeron's knighthood, and discussing remodels that would need to be remade to it, as it was long made into servant's quarters and would house Jaehaerys and Celia Tully, who had been betrothed for eight years. 

Rhaelle goes to say something- anything- because this is wrong, wrong, _wrong,_ when Jessa raises her hand, silencing her. 

As though in slow motion, Rhaelle watches in abject horror as Jaehaerys places his hand on Shaera's stomach. 

Where there is a suspicious bump, one that Jessa herself had only a few months ago. 

Shaera's face lights up- unaware of she and Jaehaerys audience, she whispers passionately, "I had to wait to tell you until I was sure and that it would do more harm than good for any Maester to give me moon tea. Now Mother and Father will have to let us marry." 

Jaehaerys lets out a joyful cry and embraces her. Everything in Rhaelle shudders then, she does not want to see this, it is naught but a nightmare, _they are not the mad Targaryens...!_

"Jes! Relle! Hide me from Olenna Redwyne!" 

Daeron fumbles past Jessa and Rhaelle and into the room- where Jaeherys and Shaera are locked in an embrace. 

The silence, as all make eye contact with one another, is the loudest thing Rhaelle has ever heard. 

"Daeron? Daeron where'd you-" Ser Jeremy Norridge, in a blue and black doublet with orange stitching, is stopped from entering the room by Jessa.

Pulling him close, she hisses harshly, "Ser Norridge, if you have any love for Prince Daeron, the stability of the realm as well as your continued existence, you will go get the Queen and King, _only them,_ and bring them here _immediately_." 

Ser Jeremy all but runs away from his future queen, who is the same height as him and five moons pregnant, and Rhaelle, his princess and his best friend's sister, nearly two heads shorter than him and only thirteen to boot. 

Rhaelle does not blame him, for she would have done the same. 

Daeron will later claim to do it on purpose- on the few occasions they ever bring it up, something that all involved highly discourage- and Rhaelle will swear it was an accident. 

He vomits his Dornish Sour onto the pile of Jaeherys' and Shaera's clothes. 

* * *

Rhaelle has never seen Mother and Father anywhere near this wroth. Not even when Duncan thought to marry the peasant girl from the Riverlands.

Father has been backed into a corner- one of the few things he hates. 

Jaehaerys stands behind Shaera, huddled in on himself. Someone has managed to scrounge up clothes for her siblings; Jaeherys in a too large tunic and too short pants, Shaera in a plain white night shift. 

Shaera stands in front of Jaehaerys, poised, confident, hand cradling her belly. Rhaelle cannot help but imagine her as Daena the Defiant born again. 

Daena the Defiant- mother of Daemon Blackfyre. 

The thought sends a shiver down her spine as she glances at the babe in Jessa's belly.

"And who will you marry, Shaera?! Now that you have given yourself a bastard? Do you want another Blackfyre?!" Father rants. Shaera's face twists in rage at that. "My babe, your grandson _twice over,_ will be _more_ of a Targaryen than I am, or my brother's children could be!"

Father's face twists- and for a moment Rhaelle fears that he does mean to strike her sister- when Mother puts a hand on his arm. 

"I have a plan." Her voice carries- it is soothing, like she used to use when Rhaelle cried to her over a skinned knee or sick stomach. "We will break Shaera's betrothal to Luthor Tyrell. We will need to appease him with the promise of a Prince or Princess- I'm sorry Jessa. And then, we will announce to the court that I have been blessed by the Seven for a final time. Shaera and I will go in to isolation- in Dragonstone, in Braavos, in Lys, _somewhere_. We'll take only those we trust- we'll take your sisters, Aegon, their children who can be trusted to shut their mouths. We will pass this child off as ours, Aegon." Mother says the last part while staring intently at Father. 

After a tense moment, Father nods.

Jessa speaks up- her goodsister, in this family council meeting, speaks for both she and her husband as members of the family and as future King and Queen. Duncan had said so, when he'd been told of the meeting (and then ordered to stay at the feast, by Father). 

"We should see if Lord Tully will consent to wed Celia to Jaehaerys any earlier. If not, maybe he ought to take a visit to Oldtown, to the Starry Sept. Visit Princess Daella. Or go be a guest at Raventree Hall for an extended while and attempt to woo his Tully bride. His Lord Grandfather is ailing anyway- it would be good for him to spend some time with him." At this, Shaera lets out a pained cry, and Jaehaerys wraps his arms around her. He lets go quickly, at Father's burning glare, but speaks for the first time since he and Shaera were discovered. "I will not wed anyone but Shaera. She is the sister of my heart, of my body, of my soul." 

"We'll run away!" Shaera cries, risking Father's wrath to wrap her arms around Jaehaerys.

"No, you won't." Aegon's voice has never been so cold before. 

They are in the heart of summer, but it may as well be winter for how cold the castle seems that night.


	3. each by his monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is going on? Why am I here?" She hisses to Daeron. Rhaelle should be packing up to head to Dragonstone, should be getting fit once more for the gown for her fourteenth birthday. 
> 
> "Because I asked them to let you in. Because I need your support." Daeron whispers back. His eyes are oddly bright, she notices, and his hands are shaking fiercely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Standing each by his monster, they looked at each other, and smiled." E.M. Forster
> 
> this chapter is dedicated to @LadyofPembroke

Five days before their family is to spread across the Seven Kingdoms, Olenna Redwyne urgently requests an audience. Father is on the verge of denying it, Rhaelle can tell, but Daeron whispers in his ear and so, with clenching teeth, he agrees to it. 

It does not look like good news, if the vein in Father's head is anything to go by.

* * *

It is an interesting crowd that gathers in the rooms her family normally holds family council in. Father, Mother (and the fake baby bump she wears, concocted by a mummer known to Horatio Waters, the Master of Whispers), Duncan, Jessa and her _real_ baby belly, Daeron, his betrothed Olenna Redwyne, his best friend Ser Jeremy Norridge, and perhaps most confusing of all, Cara Redwyne- a girl a handful of years older than she, perhaps two or three years older than Daeron.

The large oval table where one would normally sit is only occupied by Olenna and Cara. Olenna sits at the head, where Father normally sits. Cara sits stiffly at her side, Rhaelle notices as soon as she walks in, while Father paces the room and Daeron stands stoically but in a way that reminds her of an animal tensing before it runs. Mother is serene, though, which makes this all the more confusing. 

"What is going on? Why am I here?" She hisses to Daeron. Rhaelle should be packing up to head to Dragonstone, should be getting fit once more for the gown for her fourteenth birthday. 

"Because I asked them to let you in. Because I need your support." Daeron whispers back. His eyes are oddly bright, she notices, and his hands are shaking fiercely. 

Olenna Redwyne, at the head of the table, clears her throat. "Thank you for meeting with me today, Your Graces." She nods her head deferentially at King Aegon and Queen Betha. Cara does the some, though not as gracefully as Olenna. 

"You may have wondered why I asked for this meeting. Now, before we get started, know I am set on only part of my path; the other half is a mere suggestion. 

As Daeron was squiring at Highgarden, I was there as a companion to Luthor Tyrell's sister, Margarite. I have been taught the rules of the game very well, and I started to pick up on things. Daeron would kiss my hand politely but never linger even though other boys' would; he never once kissed my lips and kissed my hand or cheek only when in the company of others, when social niceties demanded it. He would dance with me more than any other woman- that is, indeed, what held off my conclusion the longest." Olenna makes eye contact with Daeron. 

He nods. 

"On the night of the announcement of Queen Betha's pregnancy, I felt compelled to follow Daeron as he left the hall. And, I saw..." Olenna doesn't hesitate, so much as let her story drop right there; Daeron picks up the narrative. 

"Olenna saw me kissing Jeremy." 

Silence. Mother gasps (Rhaelle is not convinced by the authenticity of it) and reaches for Father's hand just as Daeron threads his own between Jeremy's gloved ones. 

Before Father- with his narrowed eyes- can open his mouth to speak, Olenna interrupts. "I have nothing against men who love other men; I believe anyone who is able to find real love in this world is lucky." 

Leveling a stare in the King's direction, the Redwyne girl says flatly, "But I am also not one who would handle being second place well. I have known Daeron long enough to know that he would do his best. And he would be miserable. All involved parties, in fact, would be." A smile softens Olenna's normally serious face. 

"And once I heard about the break in the betrothal of the Princess Shaera to Luthor Tyrell, I quickly formulated a plan." 

Olenna stands; Cara does as well, the night to her cousin's sun. 

"My father was a third son who never expected to inherit anything. Sailing was one of his true passions- a passion he shared with his younger twin brother. My uncle and father had sailed all over the world before they had seen five and two years. My uncle Corbon married- in the light of the Seven- the daughter of a rich Braavosi merchant. Cara's mother lived only shortly after she landed at The Arbor. My uncles died in the Blackfyre rebellions, and my Father was left as the only heir. My Lord Grandfather, at the time, pushed my father to marry before he left. My father did as commanded, married my mother Lady Patrice of the red apple Fossoways, bedded her, and went off to war, leaving me in her belly.

But that is only a little irrelevant information. Here is what is going to happen; I am going to make Luthor Tyrell fall in love with me. It won't be hard, he half is already. And Daeron is going to marry Cara, the little known Redwyne." 

Jessa speaks up then. "I'm sorry, I fail to see how that solves any problems." 

A soft voice pipes up then, "The problem it solves, Princess, is that the Prince is a man who loves men and I am a woman who loves women." 

Rhaelle cannot help but want to hug the morose girl who is staring intently at the folded hands in her lap. As she steps forward to do so, Father leans forward rather aggressively and puts his hands heavily on the table, speaking up for the first time. 

"You have everything all figured out, don't you Lady Olenna? Wrapped up neat and tidy in a bow? It's a good plan, and one I could commit to, if you answer me this: what do _you_ want?" 

Olenna smiles a sharp smile- the one that, when given at court, means your opponent is set to devour you. "I'm glad you asked, Your Grace. You have already promised House Tyrell a prince or princess within the next two generations. I'd like the same promise for House Redwyne, with a default that you pay however many times the typical dowry of a princess, per generation pass my deadline. I'd like for you, Prince Duncan or Ser Duncan to take my brother Jarred as a squire. I'd like a standing invitation to court. I'd like for your House to pay back the dowry, and then pay it back again to me- not House Tyrell, to _me_ , personally. And I would like for any children Daeron and Cara have, should they choose to do so, to have lands and a standing name of their own." 

"I can do everything but your first requirement. That is simply ridiculous- I won't tie down any more of my future grandchildren. We'll need to see about the last, have to consult the Master of Laws. I will not give any house a basis like House Blackfyre, may the gods curse Aegon the Unworthy, was given." Aegon says vehemently and quickly. 

"Deal. I want four copies of our agreement, signed, witness, dated and sealed by the evening of tomorrow." Olenna's eyes twinkle, and her mouth curves like the cat that got the canary. She stands quickly. "Thank you for your time, Your Grace, Your Grace." With a bow to Mother and Father and with sweeping skirts, she bundles out of the room. 

Cara- her dark hair and pale skin, and Rhaelle thinks that maybe she is pretty in a quiet, unassuming way, even if the air she carries is one of sadness- watches her cousin flounce out of the room. Her mouth opens and closes multiple times, before she eventually bows to Daeron and flees. 

' _We must make a dragon of this girl_ ,' Rhaelle thinks, ' _because the mouse she is will never make it through a life at court._ ' 

The room is tense and still for many moments. 

"Duncan, Jessa, Rhaelle, you're excused. Your aunts will be arriving any moment. Please see to it that the last of the preparations are readied. Daeron- and Jeremy- stay a moment." Father is wound tight- his voice betrays the trouble he has in containing his emotion. 

Locking eyes with Mother- who, she can see, is desperately concerned, Mother would never cease to love any of them, could not love any of them less (as proven by Jaehaerys and Shaera)- gives Daeron's hand that is not entangled in his lover's a quick squeeze. 

The look Rhaelle gives her Father is not quite a glare, but one that promises wrath and retribution should any ill become of this conversation with her favorite brother. 

(Duncan was always kind, but he was seven years older than she, and learning how to be King one day, and Jaehaerys... Well, the less said about Jaehaerys, the better.)

With a bow- if Father wants to act as _King_ in this moment, she will very much play the role of princess, of a Targaryen princess, she will be Rhaenys, Visenya, Rhaenyra and Daena reborn all in one if it comes to it, she will make _Shaera_ look like _Good Queen Alysanne_ \- and a head nod to Daeron, she leaves the room. 

Duncan and Jessa turn one way down the hall, and she the other. Rhaelle can hear Jessa complaining of a sore back- at eight months, Jessa could have her child at any moment, and Rhaelle knew it pained her Mother that she would likely miss the birth of her first grandchild. But it was necessary to keep up the illusion that Mother was pregnant- anyone would expect an older woman having a child at her age to go into isolation, to reduce the stress. 

She turned the hall, and came upon a surprising sight. 

Cara Redwyne and Lanai- _her cousin!_ \- were wrapped around each other, tears visible on each girl's face. "Daeron's good, he'll be good to you." Lanai choked out. 

Cara- who Rhaelle had figured was sixteen, soon to be seventeen- held Lanai's face in her hands. "He won't forbid me from you, sweet one, he's not a hypocrite. You're his cousin and I believe he holds you as close as Rhaelle. He won't deny you, or me. I am doing him a huge favor and he loves you."

Rhaelle slips away without a sound as their lips touch, a plan formulating in her head. 

(She wonders what other secrets this court is hiding.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daeron Targaryen is an actual, canon gay character, and Ser Jeremy Norridge is his actual, canon partner. We know- from the books- that it is Olenna who broke it off with him, and his Father never pursued further, perhaps aware of his son's sexual preferences. I tried to take that, and add in a new idea: what if Olenna could shoulder off the betrothal to someone else from House Redwyne who wouldn't be completely fucking miserable? All we know of her family is that her father is Lord Runceford Redwyne. I basically took complete artistic liberty, added in a convenient OC cousin- because I like my goddamn happy endings- and gave Rhaelle a chance to plot.


	4. but another star in the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her cousins move down the line, and this is why Rhaelle hates being a princess _and_ the youngest of the family, because she's impatient and just wants to talk to her cousins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It is your omen, only you know the meaning. To me, it is but another star in the night."  
> Gerald R Stanek, _The Eighth House_
> 
> (boring chapter is boring but necessary bear with me)

Aunt Daella and Aunt Rhae arrive at nearly the same moment, as the sun sets that evening behind the Blackwater.

The competition between her aunts has always been fierce, going past sisterly competition. Aunt Rhae resented that it was Daella who had been betrothed to her father as a child, going so far as to give Father a love potion. Daella believed in her birthright- though she was fond of her Hightower husband (fond enough to bear him _seven_ children), Rhaelle always suspected it burned at her that it was not a Targaryen who was Queen. 

Aunt Rhae and her family arrive first; Rhaelle awaits her aunt and cousins on the dock. Behind her, Lanai and Hyndi- they had been her two ladies in waiting, though Hyndi had apologetically asked if she might not be one of Jessa's, to help her with the babe when it comes, and of course she says yes. Rhaelle will have to take more ladies soon, after she returns from 'isolation' with her Mother. Already Mother and Father have gently been putting names forward for consideration. 

This whole turning fourteen and being introduced to court, to society- officially, even though she's been apart of it for years- is nonsense, she decides, as the gangplank is lowered. She can't even walk through the Red Keep without being ogled by knights and lords now. 

It is as though she has been under a sheet the last fourteen years of her life and they've just now lifted it off her. 

Aunt Rhae descends first, the silks of her dress flowing in sea green and silver and a single layer of black. She looks like a vengeful sea wrath, summoned out of the ocean to break hearts and toss ships and bodies about like a child at play. 

Her Lord Uncle Addam Velaryon is much plainer behind her. He looks like an (admittedly well dressed) ship captain that Rhae has decided to keep around for nefarious purposes. 

In a line behind them are Lucerys, Alyssa and Jace. Lucerys escorts Alyssa on his arm down the gangplank; Jace follows looking extremely uncomfortable. (He's sort of the odd man out. Lucerys and Alyssa are inherently gorgeous specimens, and Jace, if he is lucky, will be once he comes of age. He's quiet, soft-spoken and thoughtful where Luke and Alyssa are loud and hotheaded, though Lucerys not near as much as his elder sister. Jace is, in fact, more like the man that Aunt Rhae swears on the Seven is his true father than the children that are known for sure to be Lord Velaryon's.) 

Aunt Rhae greets Father and Mother, delights with Duncan and Jessa over the baby, and then she is in front of Rhaelle as Lucerys and Uncle Addam confer with Daeron on his knighthood. 

"Rhaelle," her Aunt, with her bittersweet smile, "Let me be the first to wish you a happy nameday. It is a glorious time." 

There's something about her aunt- something about the way Rhae looks at her, with envy and coveting in her eyes, that always gets her off guard. 

"Thank you, Aunt. I'm nervous to be presented to court even though it is where I have grown up." Rhaelle responds politely. 

Rhae's lips curve up- and she goes to say something- when Jace, Lucerys and Alyssa approach her. 

She trades kisses on cheeks with her only female Velaryon cousin; Alyssa is gorgeously intimidating, at a little less than three years older than her. She's somehow unbetrothed- though the gods old and new know that Uncle Addam has tried, Rhaelle overheard Horatio Waters, the Master of Whispers, tell Father, and that Rhae and Alyssa have steadfastly resisted until her uncle gave up.

Rhaelle will have to choose Alyssa as one of her ladies in waiting. The thought of constantly being around her envious and snooty cousin is not appealing, but that is what is expected of her. Oldest daughters get political allies' daughters as ladies in waiting; younger daughters get family members and one or two picks of their own.

Alyssa passes her off to Lucerys, who kisses her hand before embracing her in a full hug. When Uncle Addam lived in the palace full time, as Master of Ships- before the previous Lord Velaryon died- they used to play together all the time. He, Lanai, Alannys, Gayle, Garrick, Elenor and Daeron were her best friends. One was always in the presence of at least one other. Lucerys may be four years older than her, but they have always gotten along extremely well. 

Rhaelle thinks they took years off poor Septa Orel's life with their antics.

"Cousin!" Luke exclaims. "How are you doing?" And then, his cheeks coloring slightly, "Is Alannys here yet?" 

Smiling her first genuine smile of the day, Rhaelle resists the urge to give a soft, love stricken sigh on Luke's behalf. 

Instead, she shakes her head. "No," she says with a smile as his face falls, "but the _Silver Princess_ did just up to dock." 

Luke's head whips around so hard she thinks it may topple off. Without even excusing himself- and Rhaelle will be sure to tease him about that later, in front of Alannys- he scurries off. 

Aunt Rhae's mouth curves into a bitter smile at the sight of the pale grey boat more suited for a luxury sail than a speedy journey. "Daella always did have perfect timing." 

Her aunt walks away, then, leaving just Rhaelle and her youngest male Velaryon cousin. 

They have only interacted a few times; since The Incident (that took place before Jace was born) involving Aunt Rhae that Rhaelle isn't exactly clear on, the main Velaryon branch has only returned to court a handful of times, though Addam Velaryon's legitimized bastard brother Marinus has taken over the role as Master of Ships. The last time she saw Jace was at Duncan's wedding two years ago. 

Jace just stands there awkwardly, so she pulls him in to a fierce hug. "You have been missed, cousin." 

He turns as red as the dragon on the Targaryen banner, but he hugs her back just as fiercely. 

She wonders if he is hugged often. Lucerys, for all his kindness, could be dense to the emotional needs of others (who were not Alannys). Alyssa could be cruel and Rhae could be apathetic.

"Are you excited to be squiring, Jace?" she asks, watching _The Silver Princess_ pull in to dock. 

Her eleven year old cousin managed to hold in most of his peep. "I'm honored to serve Lord Baratheon."

Jace's hair is more silver than hers, Rhaelle notes as her cousin stares at the floor. It's not surprising- Velaryons and Targaryens have been intermarrying since The Doom and quite possibly beforehand as well. 

He jumps as the gangplank from _The Silver Princess_ hits the docks. 

_Gods help us make a dragon out of him, too._ Rhaelle prays, _or, if that is not to be, Lord Lyonel make a stag of him. At least they have antlers and hooves, if they don't have wings or a mouth that'll breathe fire._

* * *

It is not Aunt Daella who comes down the gangplank first, but technically her son Baelor, who is a little less than two and a bit still wobbly on his feet. He is the only one of her children with a Targaryen name- the only boy of three she birthed who looks all Targaryen- and he will be her last, as her aunt nearly died doing her woman's battle in the birthing bed bringing Baelor into the world. She hunches over him as he waddles down, clutching her fingers to guide him, his hair as prominently silver as his mother's. The only difference is that his is curled into perfect ringlets, while Daella's is as straight as a pin. 

Once Aunt Daella and Baelor reach the bottom, the rest of her cousins and her lord uncle descend down the ship. Uncle Bastion should be escorting Alannys, but it is made clear immediately why he is escorting Gayle instead when she runs down the gangplank and straight in to Lucerys' arms. 

( _Rhaelle is somewhere between delighted at the love they have found for themselves in an arranged marriage, and a little grossed out, because the last scene of intimate affection she witnessed between a man and a woman was between her own siblings, and despite her best efforts, she has yet to be able to forget what she saw._ )

Leyton- Ser Leyton, she forgot he had been knighted by Lord Tyrell for services to the realm- escorts down Elenor, her cousin two years younger than she. Gayle's twin Garrick (Gayle and Garrick are of an age with Rhaelle) escorts Candace, four years younger than they and always good for a laugh, down the gangplank. 

Rhaelle, with only slight shame, will admit that she is closer to her Hightower cousins than her Velaryon ones. Her Uncle Bastion, until his father Lord Humfrey Hightower descended into the throes of illness and pronounced his son as Lord Regent, had served as Master of Laws and one of Father's closest advisors. They had lived almost full time at court until shortly after the birth of Candace (though she'd been born in Oldtowne, as Lord Humfrey insisted all Hightower children were), when the Regency was proclaimed. One of the Kingsguard- Ser Theobold Hightower- was Uncle Bastion's younger brother (and Rhaelle's personal favorite member of the guard, besides.) 

Her cousins move down the line, and this is why Rhaelle hates being a princess _and_ the youngest of the family, because she's impatient and just wants to talk to her cousins. 

Leyton reaches her first- the beard he's been desperately trying to grow since his first hair wormed its way onto his upper lip is finally fully grown in, though it's more stubble than anything. Leyton looks much a carbon copy of his father Bastion- blue green Hightower eyes, short cut beard, dimples even in the same place. The only difference is Bastion's hair is dark Hightower curls and Leyton's hair is all burnished gold and throws bronze and copper in the light.

"Cousin," she murmurs as he kisses both her cheeks and takes his hands briefly in hers. His hands are rough and calloused from mornings spent with a sword in his hand, training. 

Leyton smiles back, "Why, Relle, don't look so happy to see me." 

"I am happy to see you, just not as happy as I suspect you'll be to know that Ser Theo has been gleefully planning on how he's going to be drilling you in the training yard before the start of dawn tomorrow." 

He throws his head back and lets out a long, exaggerated moan. 

"Move, Ley, you're hogging our cousin!" Alannys gives him a soft shove and moves in front of Rhaelle, throwing her arms around her. Lucerys, who had been trailing behind her like a lost puppy, is pulled aside by Leyton, and by the sudden animated conversation, must have forgotten about his betrothed's momentary abandonment of him.

Rhaelle had hugged a great many people in her day, and she suspects that she would probably hug a great many more. That being said, Alannys was the best hugger she had come across. She radiated love and warmth wherever she went, gave the right amount of pressure so you could breathe but still feel encompassed. 

Alannys smells lovely, too, like roses and orange blossoms. 

"Where are Jaehaerys and Shaera?" Alannys asked, eyes following her younger siblings-particularly Baelor- as they wander around the dock. 

Alannys is beautiful; she has the dark brown Hightower hair and Targaryen eyes- such a dark purple they look almost black- that contrast beautifully against cream skin and a few charming, honey colored freckles. Other than for her coloring, everyone says that she looks just like her Tyrell grandmother. 

( _Rhaelle has heard it whispered that Alannys is one of the most beautiful girls of their age, even prettier than herself or Shaera depending on who is telling the tale. Rhaelle would be inclined to agree._ )

Gayle comes up just as Rhaelle is answering her older cousin. "Jaehaerys rode out to meet the Tully party early this morning. And Shaera's been feeling very under the weather lately. Father's actually sending her to Dragonstone with explicit instructions to rest and recooperate, not just take care of mother." 

Alannys' hand flies to her mouth. "Oh, the poor dear! I'll be sure to light candles for her in front of the Mother, the Maiden and Crone!" 

_I wouldn't bother with the Maiden if I were you,_ Rhaelle thinks wryly, _in fact, Shaera could probably use both of those prayer candles in front of the Mother; or maybe the Crone will beat some sense into her with her staff_. 

Taking Alannys hands in hers and acutely aware of Gayle's eyes, Rhaelle says "I'll be sure to tell her the next time the maesters let me in her room. I'm sure she would be touched if she knew, and graciously thank you." 

_Lies, lies, lies._ Shaera has been cursing Mother and Father with near every breath. She's been cursing Jessa and Rhaelle and Daeron as well, though not as often. She cries out pleas to Jaehaerys as though he were standing right next to her, begging him to save her.

Pain thrums in her chest a little bit at the thought, though not as badly as it used to. A queer sort of madness has taken over her sister.

Alannys walks away and Gayle moves to embrace her, the silver hair she wears pulled back tight in a bun brushing against her own. Maesters thought Gayle was simple for the longest time because she wouldn't speak. 

Garrick insisted that she could but just didn't want to. 

Gayle first spoke to Rhaelle in 233, AC. She had kissed her cousin on the cheek- the Hightowers were on their way back to Oldtowne. Gayle had kissed her cousin's cheek in the clumsy way of toddlers and said, simply, "Goodbye, Princess." 

It had shocked their attending Septas, and despite much prodding from them both and her mother, she would not speak another word.

Not until a few months later, she looked up at dinner one night and proclaimed, "The King is Dead. Long live the King." 

It took two days for the news to arrive at Hightower. When the Maester- a younger one, the chain around his neck swinging- came bursting in during the evening meal, Gayle looked up and quietly said, "Dark wings, dark words." 

Gayle is still quiet unless she knows she has something useful to say. With purple eyes the same color as Alannys- Candace has them as well, Baelor's are lighter, like lilac, with Hightower blue-green flecks- and hair as silver as her own, though straight like Aunt Daella's, they could be twins. 

Gayle has a twin already though, and he makes a beeline for them as soon as he has finished talking with Daeron. 

Rhaelle goes to disengage from the hug, but Gayle pulls her closer and whispers, "Tell me the truth. Later." 

With a shock- because growing up at court, Rhaelle knows she's quite unfortunately an accomplished liar, had perfected the art of it like other girls her age perfected needlepoint and love ballads- Gayle lets go. 

Garrick reaches her then- Rhaelle thinks that the two of them really only look alike if you stare hard enough, because Garrick has the duskier version of Alannys' dark hair and the blue green eyes of Hightowers before him- and she honestly could not tell you what they talked about. 

Everything seems to float by: Elenor, blue-green eyes and dark Hightower hair that curls about untamable, blushing over her betrothal to Jarred Redwyne. Candace, eyes violet and hair burnished gold like Leyton's, poking fun at her sister.

She is standing in a circle with all her girl cousins, listening to Alannys talk about her upcoming wedding, when a man on a horse comes flying down the port. 

The five remaining members of the Kingsguard- Ser Patrek Mallister is guarding Shaera, is one of Mothers's uncles, getting on in his years, and Ser Warryck Celtigar rode out with Jaehaerys to greet the Tullys- pull out their swords. Or, in the case of Ser Ronnel Yronwood, pulls out both of the swords he fights with, the smaller blades still large in his hands. The spear he carries- just in case, he told her once- is still strapped to his back.

"Halt! State your business with the King!" Ser Duncan cries out, moving toward the messenger as his brothers in white move to protective stances near their assigned charges. 

"Pardons, my Grace, the Lord Hand Baratheon sent me with a message!" A boy, not much older than herself, Rhaelle thinks, approaches with a piece of paper. 

Ser Duncan all but rips the message from the boy's hands- he shivers, and she deduces from the two combatant red and white griffins that the boy must be James Connington, Lord Baratheon's older squire and own nephew, soon to be knighted, and Rhaelle wonders why Ser Duncan didn't recognize him. 

Father reads the message, then does something he very rarely does, and never in public. 

He curses. 

"Everyone, we must return to the Keep immediately. We brought horses for all, but here's a litter for those who prefer not to ride." Father hasn't even finished speaking before Ser Theo is sweeping her up onto the her horse- Dreamfyre- and handing the reins to Ser Ronnel. 

The gold cloaks that accompany every outing- there are always some at the palace on rotation, Rhaelle knows their names, their families, has played with some of their sons and daughters- look just as confused as she does when Father instructs half of them to stay and accompany his sisters and their household guards to the palace and half to ride with the royal family.

' _What is going on?_ ' She wants to yell at her father, as the Kingsguard encircle the horses of she, Daeron, Jessa and Mother. Father and Duncan ride as part of the circle created by the Kingsguard, protected by Gold Cloaks. 

Their panicked ride back to the Keep as the sun sets could not sit any more opposite to their pleasant ride earlier.

Lord Lyonel Baratheon- Father's Hand, his only friend other than Ser Duncan- greets him as they ride in, soaked in sweat and covered in grime. His voice is as grim as she thinks she's ever heard it. "Your Grace," Lord Baratheon states as Father dismounts, "Maegor Brightflame has left The Eyrie, apparently, and is now requesting an audience. He says it's not immediate, that he realizes you are likely a busy man, and that he's happy to wait for you to call on him." 

The courtyard is silent as the implications hit all. Duncan helps Jessa dismounts her horse, and then there's a soft ' _umph_ , a pop, and the sound of spilling water. 

Everyone looks around in confusion, when Jessa speaks up, softly, "I do believe it's time for me to have a baby." 

And, if Rhaelle thought their ride back to the keep was chaotic, it is nothing compared to the flaming arrow in the straw the future queen's words turned out to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurred to me I never disclosed that the story's title is lyrics from _The Enemy_ by Andrew Belle, which happens to be one of my favorite songs. The series title comes from one of his other songs, _Pieces_. I highly recommend both of them.
> 
> Leyton Hightower is a canon character, as is Maegor 'Brightflame' Targaryen, son of Aerion Targaryen. He was passed over by The Great Council after King Maekar's death; due to the remaining Blackfyre threat, it was decided a grown man was needed to rule the realm instead of a regent or a council of regents. I have changed his age- in canon he was younger than Rhaelle.


	5. checkers, chess, cyvasse: a change in the game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plotting Aunt, a disgruntled Aunt, an omniscient cousin and the future Queen Consort, giving birth, are totally normal pieces in King Aegon V's Game of Thrones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **THIS CHAPTER MAY BE TRIGGERING**   
>  this chapter implies non-consensual underage sexual activities. It is hidden very deeply in innuendo.

Despite Rhaelle's great insistence against it, she is immediately hustled in to her rooms. 

The bath she can understand- Flea Bottom is filthy, and they had ridden hard- but when she goes to exit her rooms to join Jessa in the birthing chamber, she is stopped by Ser Farris Tarly. 

"I'm sorry, Princess, but Prince Duncan has decreed that no one may enter the birthing room now except for Queen Betha, the Lord Hand, himself, and the Princess Jessa's sisters, and King Aegon has asked that the royal family stay confined to their chambers tonight." His voice is monotone, and Rhaelle resists the urge to stamp her foot. She is fourteen, and more dignified than that. 

Ser Tarly lets out a small smile then, at what must surely be a great look of indignation on her face. "However, the Lord Hand caught up with me on my way here and told me that the Princess Jessa would do her best to send someone for you. He says since she could not have her mother here with her, she would like _all_ her sisters instead." 

Rhaelle smiles a bit, before saddening at the reminder of Lady Sabine's death. Father had declared the bells rung for three days, in respect of his Lord Hand's wife, who did much charity work with Mother. There was a common joke at court: _Lyonel Baratheon is the King's Hand, and Sabine Connington the Queen's._

Nodding, she closes the door to her chambers and returns to her room.

Only to find Gayle sitting on her bed. 

She almost screams, but her brain registers in time to stop it. 

"What are you doing here?" Rhaelle whispered harshly, regretting her words immediately. Backtracking, she said slightly louder, "How did you get in here?" 

Gayle, silver white hair down instead of the tightly pulled bun it had been when she got off of _The Silver Princess_ , merely raises an eyebrow. "Did you not know of the secret tunnel in your room?" 

A shiver runs down her spine. "No, I had not a clue." 

Gayle tilts her head. "Huh. Well, you can only reach it from the basements or in a trap door behind the tapestry of Visenya circling the Eyrie. Mum found it-did you know this used to be my Mum's room? She's the one who told me about it."

"I suppose it makes sense." Rhaelle replies cautiously, sitting next to her cousin on her own featherbed. "Will you show me where it is?" 

Gayle nods. "Of course." A shadow crosses her cousin's face, "You might have need of it."

_This_ catches Rhaelle's attention. "Are you still having visions? I thought you said they had stopped once you flowered." 

Rolling her eyes, Gayle falls back on the bed. "No. That was just a lie Mother told Father so he wouldn't send me away. It scares him, I think; though I already did that extended trip to the Starry Sept Motherhouse two years ago, and it worked for not at all. Mother just told him it was a common thing in the Targaryen bloodline. If anything, they've gotten worse since I flowered. Now I'm seeing multiple possibilities instead of the ones just set in stone. Sometimes I can hear the past yelling at me- sometimes I can see it. There are so many ghosts here." Gayle's eyes glass over, just a little bit.

Rhaelle thinks of the great injustices, the terrible things, that have occurred in this keep, and shivers. 

No, she does not envy her cousin's gift. 

They sit in comfortable silence, just listening to one another breathe. Gayle carries a weight about her that she didn't when Rhaelle had last seen her, and it troubles her, for she does not know if it is just visions that trouble her cousin or something more. 

A seemingly small comfortable eternity later, Gayle speaks softly. "Aunt Betha really isn't pregnant, is she?" 

The fear that jolts through Rhaelle is irrational, she knows, since Gayle will undoubtedly join them on the trip to Dragonstone, but she has been guarding this secret so fiercely and for what feels like so long that to utter it now will be a betrayal. 

Exhaling, Rhaelle answers, "No, she's not." Her eyes flicker over to her cousin's face, to see how she reacts.

Gayle does nothing but blink. "It's really Shaera's, isn't it?" 

Release, the burden of not being alone in this anymore, is choking. "Yes. It's Shaera's and Jaehaerys. I know we are _Targaryens_ , but the Faith made clear it when Duncan became of a betrothing age that they would no longer stand for incest, and... it bothers me. Father was so worried about having a second Blackfyre on our hands, and then mother came up with the idea to pass it off as theirs..." 

"It wasn't Aunt Betha's idea. Targaryens- and other houses- have used it before." Gayle doesn't snap, but her voice contains enough of a reprimand that it can't in good conscience be called informing. 

"Who...?" Rhaelle asks, trying desperately to remember the history of their house, of who had children when their children were old enough to have children. Princess Rhaenyra, mother to Daeron? No, she'd just had Jacaerys. Rhaenyra as Aemond's mother, possibly... But Alicent Hightower wouldn't actually ever do that, would she? Unless she thought a crown was in it for her... And any Targaryen could have said their bastard was actually Aegon the Fourth's.

"All I can think of is Aegon the Fourth, and maybe Rhaenyra." Rhaelle admits, rolling on to her stomach and turning her head toward her cousin. 

"You're thinking too far back." Gayle's words are hollow, her eyes glossing over again for a few moments. They are both silent for a long time- this one not as comfortable- and eventually Gayle moves to sleep on her side. 

It hits Rhaelle right as she falls asleep; Aunt Daella nearly died having Candace. She'd written in her letters that she would never have another child; she'd joked that, like Princess Rhaena Targaryen who had married Ser Garmund Hightower after the Dance of the Dragons, she would only be giving House Hightower six children, and if anything, she'd done better than Rhaena, because she had given her husband some sons and not just daughters. 

Then came Baelor, eight years younger than her youngest. 

' _Aunt Betha didn't come up with the idea._ '

No, Aunt _Daella_ of Houses Targaryen and Hightower did. Baelor is really Daella's grandson, not her son. So who is his mother and father, and why would Daella claim him as her own?

Rhaelle struggles to stay awake, to answer the question. Her brain and drooping eyelids can take no more, and she drops into sleep in the middle of a rather important thought.

* * *

The castle plunges into absolute insanity, waiting with baited breath for the birth of Duncan's first child and- hopefully- heir, as well as scurrying about to finish preparations for Rhaelle's nameday and presentation ball that is to occur in two short days. 

Her birthday was two days before her cousins arrived, and she had had a quiet meal with her family and friends, with all her favorite courses. 

Ser Tarly seems only slightly confused as to why _two_ Targaryen-appearing girls are in her chambers that morning, as the maids bring them breakfast. He eventually lets it go with a shake of his head, accepting the half a pear she offers him as they await his relief. 

Ser Theobold appears in a short manner, with her gaggle of female cousins and Aunt Daella behind him. 

"Any news on Jessa?" She asks, with worry and with excitement. Her own mother nearly died bringing her into the world; Aunt Daella, with Candace and with Baelor, (supposedly). 

Ser Theo shakes his head. "No, but our Lord Hand, during one of his pacing excursions this morning at dawn as I went to check in with Ser Duncan, did disclose that Grand Maester Dollet believes Jessa will deliver at some point today, probably when the sun is high." 

"Your mother said that her labor's been very intense, and rather quick for a first birth." Aunt Daella chimed in. "I spoke to her for a moment as I went to gather my girls and she went to gather a few hours a sleep. The Baratheon girls- Gwenys and Heidi?- had gone to relieve her." 

"Gwyneira and Hyndi." Rhaelle corrects absentmindedly. Lanai enters into her chambers, and it is immediately obvious (to Rhaelle, at least) that her cousin has spent the whole night crying. 

Worry springs in her chest like a boat with a leak. Does Lanai still cry over the fact that, at her presentation ball, Daeron and Cara's betrothal will be announced? 

_I shall have to get to the bottom of this._ Rhaelle decides before being distracted by the arrival of breakfast. 

It is a grand time, and the princess is glad for it. Alyssa has changed from being an uptight and snobby girl to a pleasantly sarcastic woman with a dry wit, and Rhaelle truly hopes it holds up, that this is not just an act to ensure that she becomes one of her ladies-in-waiting. 

Alannys is her normal warm self, and giggles at everything. She and Alyssa spend a lot of time with their heads together, and Rhaelle can only assume they are talking of Alannys' wedding to Lucerys. It is to take place in three months after the start of the New Year, in the Starry Sept.

Elenor listens as Candace chats her ear off, attending to Baelor as well. Gayle and Lanai have made seemingly fast friends with each other. Aunt Daella is...

Next to her on the divan. Daella sits gracefully, in a way Rhaelle can only someday hope to imitate. "Tell me of the middle Baratheon girl." No frivolties, just straight to the point. 

Rhaelle blinks once, twice, three times in a rapid manner. "Gwyn? May I ask why?" 

Her Aunt stares at her levelly. "Because we're in talks with Lord Baratheon to betroth her to Leyton." 

"I thought Leyton was to marry Ilona Sunglass?" 

Daella frowns, watches as Baelor crumbles a sweet bread in between his fingers. "No, Ilona is heir to Sweetport Sound. The only other option for heir is some mad cousin. No, if it is anyone, it will be Garrick who marries her, and their children would carry on her name. Bastion and I have thought to marry him to either Olwyn Beesbury, Ailsa Mallister, Pippa Grafton, Imogen Manderly, Zara Darklyn, the Baratheon girl... and one other."

Rhaelle sees the pattern near immediately. "Honeyholt's up the Honeywine, that would get goods inland. Port towns? Seagard, Gulltown, White Harbor, Duskendale, and Ilona would have given Sweetport Sound. Storm's End isn't a port town, though. So... ship making or navy access. You get access to the Redwyne navy through Elenor's betrothal, though. So what would be the appeal for Gwyneira? And who else are you speaking about?" 

Aunt Daella watches her, head tilted, and something in her own chest _tightens_ and breathing gets harder for a minute, because she may be a fifth child and a second daughter, but she _knows_ this game, perhaps better than all her siblings, has been raised in it and relishes it, in a way. She knows the value of the pieces and the skills of the players and Daella is one of the best out there.

Cautiously, she ventures, "Gwyn would be useful because of her connection at court. One of the head ladies-in-waiting, sister to the future queen, aunt to a future king. That would be a betrothal of position, of power." Daella nods, slowly, a smile curling up her lips like a vine unravels in the sun. 

With a gulp, Rhaelle whispers, "The other match you're thinking of is me, isn't it? An ultimate betrothal of power."

Daella smiles fully now. "Very good, niece. Betha and Aegon often raved on how smart you were. I am glad to not be disappointed." 

Rhaelle goes to reply- because this isn't what Father and Mother _promised,_ they said she would get to choose who she married and it had been the dearest of her birthday presents- but her Aunt interrupts her, placing a finger on her lips.

"Do not say anything you will regret, my sweet. Bastion and I are not committing to anything until after the ball, and Leyton will have a say in the matter, too. So I think perhaps silence is best on this, hmm?" 

Rhaelle, the feeling of shame sticky in her chest, nods. 

She has never been more grateful to see the dreaded army of seamstresses that burst into her room at that moment.

* * *

The moment Rhaelle has a chance, she takes Lanai and Gayle to the Godswood. She assigns Candace to making Jace slightly more social (or at least able to hold a conversation with a stranger without stuttering) and places Elenor in the company of Cara Redwyne. Cara, for all she is related to Olenna and therefore kin to what Rhaelle can tell is to be one of the more dangerous players in the game, is truly a sweet girl, and has opened her arms like a sister to Elenor, for she is to marry her cousin Jarred Redwyne, who she has been raised next to as sister after the death of her father.

Mother worshipped the Old Gods, if discretely. The Faith of the Seven had had a fit when they learned their future Queen was a pagan, a heretic. 

So Mother had denounced her Old Gods and taken up the Faith of the Seven. She went to the Sept at least twice a sennight, led the ladies of the court in private worship to the Seven once a sennight, gave at least half her monthly allowance to Faith run orphanages, hospitals, sponsored Septon and Septa training, made donations in her children's name. Betha had named her children in the light of the Seven and made them attend Sept with her twice a week until the age of fourteen; Mother still pushed them into going at least once a moon if they didn't go of their own will. 

Queen Betha had also made sure that her children helped with the Faith run charities until they were 14, visiting the orphanages and passing out bread in Flea Bottom. The reason she and her brothers and sister are so well loved, Rhaelle often thinks, is because her Mother _made_ the people love them. 

But when Lanai had come to live with them (she was eight and Rhaelle seven) after losing her Father- Uncle Walten had drank himself to death, two years after the death of Aunt Augusta- Mother had seized the chance to teach her children about the Old Gods. She had, of course, drug Lanai to the Sept, and along all the other adventures she took her own children on. 

Lanai was perhaps most comfortable in the Godswood than in any other part of the Red Keep. That's why Rhaelle had decided this conversation must take place here. 

As they approached the heart tree, Gayle, who of _course_ knew, in that omniscient way of hers, looked at the two of them and said daintily, "I do believe I shall walk along the perimeter in search of ring Mother told me she lost here long ago during a tryst with a forbidden lover." 

A large piece of obsidian- brought from Dragonstone, Rhaelle didn't doubt, eternally polished by the rain- served as an altar of sorts to the oak that acted as the heart tree, and plush green moss padded their knees as she led Lanai to pray. 

What Rhaelle appreciated most about prayer to the Old Gods was that it was mostly introspection. 

Rhaelle prayed for Jessa and the safe birth of her niece or nephew. She prayed for Shaera, that she would have an easy birth when the time came, and prayed for Jaehaerys, that he could find it in himself to love his Tully bride, that whatever madness embraced Shaera and Jaehaerys worked itself out. She prayed for Lanai, that her soul might be settled, and for Daeron and Cara, that the two would become friends as they faked a marriage.

Her prayers said, she looked over to see Lanai still concentrating deeply, eyes squinting, and sat back on her haunches to enjoy the cool shade of the Godswood. 

Eventually Lanai sat back; Rhaelle gave her a few moments to collect her thoughts, before asking gently, "What is it that troubles you, cousin?" 

The sobs her cousin breaks in to- while not unexpected- are unsettling. 

Rhaelle gathers Lanai in her arms and lets her cry, a part of her brain absentmindedly wondering if her maid would demand an explanation for the snot and tear stains on her bosom, as well as the grass stain on her arse, or simply shrug it off. (Eda had done both in the past.)

Lanai eventually calmed herself down enough to talk. "Our Lord Uncle Cassius put my name forward as a consideration to Edmond Tully." 

Well. That certainly put a snag in Rhaelle's plan for Daeron and Lanai's eternal happiness. "And you're in love with somebody else." Rhaelle ventured, wanting her cousin to come clean herself. 

Lanai looked down and blushed, before extricating herself from Rhaelle to pace agitatedly. "I-well, yes, but they are promised to another, and..." Her cousin started to cry again. 

Giving a deep, internal sigh, Rhaelle rises off the ground as well. "Lanai, I love you like a sister. And Daeron does as well. Surely you cannot believe that Daeron would force you and Cara apart, when all with eyes can see the love between you two? He is not the least bit cruel." 

Rhaelle has never seen a jaw drop so fast, nor anyone twirl on their toe as gracefully as Lanai on moss. "How- who-" the red haired girl babbles out, before sitting on the large obsidian stone. "Who else knows?" The change in her demeanor to fearful causes Rhaelle to scurry over and sit next to her. 

"No one, cousin, just I. I came across the two of you after the meeting where Cara and Daeron became betrothed. And I thought of the greatest plan." 

A sniff, and a bitter laugh. "What does it matter? I would never tear Cara apart like that. She's very dutiful, and when she says those vows, she'll mean them, and everything will be different. Daeron might not care if I share her bed now, but after the wedding he will, mark my words." 

Rhaelle presses on. "No, but this is where the beauty of it all comes in: you marry Ser Jeremy Norridge! Don't you see?" She can't help but clap her hands gleefully at the prospect. 

Lanai just stares at her blankly. When she answers, her tone is so flat a blood orange wouldn't roll on it. "And this helps, how? By putting me in someone else's bed? By making Cara and I spend time together as ladies? Talking about how much we hate when our husbands bed us, about heirs and court gossip?" 

It occurs, then, to Rhaelle, that Cara may never have shared a key piece of information with Lanai. "My dear cousin," the princess says slowly, "you are aware that Daeron feels for Jeremy the way you feels toward Cara, and has inclinations toward men that you do to women?"

Lanai stares at her. And stares. A chuckle escapes her lips, turning into full on laughter, and soon tears of mirth pour from her eyes. 

Rhaelle joins her, because the past few days have been nothing but stressful and she could use some good laughter. 

They are still laughing when Gayle comes skidding to a stop at the edge of the clearing, her silver hair pulled back into as tight of a bun as can be worn. 

"Rhaelle! Lanai! Come here!" She hisses in extreme agitation, just loud enough that it can be heard over their laughter, her movements jerky. 

Their laughter cuts off immediately, and they follow Gayle deeply into the godswood. 

A decently sized pond lies along the edge of the wall of the at the back of the Godswood. Gayle slides them along the edge and into a copse hidden by hedges that they used to hide in as children. 

Three grown women is a tight fit. It's a wonder they all do.

"Look." Gayle breathes, pointing out what they called the 'window' as children. 

Maegor Brightflame and her cousin, Alyssa Velaryon sit closely at the edge of the water, whispering intently. Their heads- both Targaryen silver, the color of moonlight- were close enough together to give Rhaelle anxiety. 

A movement behind Maegor alerted her eyes to the fact that they were not alone. 

Aunt Rhae and another girl that Rhaelle couldn't quite place sat just behind Maegor and Alyssa on a blanket of their own, chatting quietly. 

Rhaelle didn't know how long she watched them; long enough to watch the girl stare longingly at Maegor, long enough to see Maegor tuck some of Alyssa's hair behind her ear and kiss the inside of both her wrists. 

Gayle eventually tugged at her sleeve though and Rhaelle barely remembered their precarious position in time to keep herself from snapping. 

"We have to go." She whispered, the pupils of her eyes so big there was hardly any purple left in her eyes at all. 

The three of them make it out of the Godswood unnoticed.

Until they run into James Connington.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're someone like me who likes to know who certain characters written about look like, just imagine  
> 1)Rhaelle: Imogen Poots in _Miss Austen Regrets_  
>  2)Duncan: Darren Criss  
> 3)Jessa: Megan Fox  
> 4)Gayle: Jennifer Lawrence at any point with long platinum blonde hair  
> 5)Aunt Daella: Jennifer Aniston  
> 6)Aunt Rhae: Nicole Kidman
> 
> ...idk, I have a Pinterest board. I can link you if you want.


	6. blood of the covenants and waters of the womb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something in Rhaelle's chest felt both fluttery and empty after that. Instead of thinking on that- or thinking on Jessa's lanky cousin- she pushed into the birthing chamber, right as her goodsister gave a big scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm backkkkk!!!!!!! This story isn't abandoned, real life just got really crazy there for awhile. So thank you to everyone who has stuck around! You have my eternal love and gratitude

By the end of the day, Rhaelle is in love. 

Twice over. 

James Connington had apparently been searching for her for close to an hour and a half by the time he found her with Gayle and Lanai. 

"Princess!" He had gasped, sweaty and out of breath and in need of a cool drink, she suspected, "Princess Jessa has sent me to find you. Come- we must go immediately!" 

Gayle and Lanai had stayed behind; Rhaelle had grabbed James' hand and run, run, _run_ , propriety be damned, until she reached the birthing suite. 

Where, upon feeling a heated stare from Ser Duncan, she realized she was still holding hands with Lord Lyonel's squire. 

Rhaelle and the redhead exchanged mortified looks- his already flushed face turned even darker- and dropped hands. 

Something in Rhaelle's chest felt both fluttery and empty after that. Instead of thinking on that- or thinking on Jessa's lanky cousin- she pushed into the birthing chamber, right as her goodsister gave a big scream.

The twins were born when the sun was three quarters of the way through the sky. Baela- her _niece_!- had come squalling into the world, a small embodiment of her mother's words. She kicked and flailed so hard that Maester Dollet was forced to bundle her himself and not pass her on to a nurse, lest she injure herself. 

Dollet had barely had time to bundle Baela when Aemon started to arrive. 

Rhaelle watched from behind Hyndi, murmuring reassuring words, as the Grand Maester absentmindedly passed the new born princess into Mother's arms. 

As Jessa screamed to push the second child, Rhaelle watched her Mother almost go out of the birthing chamber and present Baela before remembering herself. It would be considered a serious breach of etiquette. Duncan must be presented with (and _approve_ of) the child before informally presenting the child. He could also invite a family member (likely the King or the Hand, maybe Mother) to informally present the child as well. 

Three minutes after the birth of Baela, Aemon joined his older sister.

* * *

It is Aemon- her future king, her _nephew_ \- that she holds now, a little less than a day after their birth. Gayle, besides her, holds Baela, as Jessa dozes, still exhausted from the birth and holding visitors shortly after.

The babies are peaceful, having just been fed from Jessa's own breast- every one of the Seven Kingdoms and even the houses sometimes had different customs, she knew, and in the Stormlands the mother nursed the children for three moons before passing them off to a wetnurse. In the Crownlands, most nursed only for about a month.

Turning to her head lady-in-waiting (she'd officially asked as Gayle slumbered with her last night), she asked quietly, rocking Aemon, "Gayle, what do we do about Maegor and Alyssa? It's- something just feels _wrong_ about what we saw. Like... they could be plotting something. I know Aunt Rhae was with them, and so was that girl from the Vale, but... Rhae can't seriously be considering a betrothal to _her brother's_ once rival to the throne." 

Gayle presses her lips into a line and brings her brow together; rocking Baela for a long while, until she says even more quietly than Rhaelle had, "Talk to your Father and Lord Horatio as they come out of the next small council meeting. It must be the next one, though." 

Rhaelle rises suddenly, her grip on Aemon sturdy even if she is unaccustomed to holding small children. "They're having one right now! Come, we must go." Placing her nephew down in his crib, she watches Gayle gracefully rise and do the same with Baela. 

"I can walk with you, but you yourself must speak with the King and Lord Waters. It is how it must be." 

There would be no persuading her, Rhaelle knew, by the tone of her voice. 

The pair exited quietly- with nod to Ser Gunthor Stone, who King Aegon and Prince Duncan had insisted guard the newborn heir to Westeros, as well as one to James Connington, (and a blush on Rhaelle's end) who had volunteered to guard the prince and princess as well, the ' _pride of House Baratheon_ ' Lord Lyonel had boomed with a laugh. (His nickname, The Laughing Storm, was well deserved, Rhaelle had always thought.)

James goes to say something, but his words come out jumbled, and Gayle is pulling her forward, so she just waves a little bit and giggles when his face turns even redder. 

At the end of the hallway, they hear a deep sigh and Ser Gunthor's booming laughter, and the faint sound of men in armor rough housing one another.

* * *

The moment Rhaelle and her cousin leave, Jessa ceases to fake sleeping. While she did feel slightly guilty about it, she was so _weary_ , right down to her soul. 

Slipping out of bed to stand over her night and day babes- her silver haired son, a good omen for Aemon, who would be the first King of his name and hopefully as smart and kind as the uncle of Duncan's she had met at their wedding, the one who served as Maester on The Wall, who had given up the throne in order to keep his vows. As noble and honorable and as loved as the Dragonknight. And fierce, black haired Baela, whose hair was just like her own.

( _She just knows, in the mother's heart she's so new to, that Baela is going to have an attitude just like Gwyn and Shaera, defiant and stubborn to the point of stupidity, like the original Baela Targaryen who rode a dragon during The Dance and fell into the sea. She just prays Baela is more like her sister than her goodsister, because as well as Queen Betha and King Aegon thought she had handled the situation with Shaera and Jahaerys, she might lose her mind if it happened with her children._ )

The guilt of pretending to be asleep as someone she considered a little sister visited melted away. 

There was a threat to her children, and that would not do. 

While Stags were mostly considered prey animals- ones that watched, and waited as death circled if something large enough to take them down thought to give chase- they could be vicious fighters as well when cornered. 

_Ours is the fury._

And dragons, if being cornered were ever such a thing for them, would scorch the earth and salt the ashes, would build their own funeral pyre and dance on it.

_Fire and Blood._

Jessa Baratheon Targaryen was feeling pretty cornered right now.

"My loves," the future queen whispered, running a finger down each one of their pale cheeks, "No harm shall come to you. I swear it, on The Seven and on your Grandmother Betha's Old Gods and on The Storm God." 

At the sound of her voice, two sets of eyes pop open. 

Aemon's eyes are still baby blues; Baela's eyes, though, are already all Targaryen, already a fierce and angry purple.

Jessa prays, selfishly, that Aemon's eyes stay blue.

* * *

Rhaelle waits outside of the Small Council chambers for what seems like hours, listening to the low murmurs of men's voices and the occasional scraping of chairs. A messenger enters once. A voice is raised, once, but the heavy doors muffle it so she can't tell whose it is. 

Eventually the doors open and the Small Council streams out. Lord Lyonel- Hand of the King, father to a future queen and grandfather to a future king, gods be willing- walks between kindly old Grand Maester Dollet and Lord Aldwyn Grandison, the Master of Laws Uncle Bastion had recommended when he'd resigned his position to help run Oldtown. Lord Grandison is old- Rhaelle quite thinks he must be nearing a hundred years old and that if she were that age, she'd run around without a corset or kertle on, tits to the wind.

Maester Dollet is the only one who notices her sitting on the window seat across from the council room. He gives her a quick nod before returning to the intense conversation. 

Marinus Velaryon strolls out on his own, and- the lech- upon seeing her allows his eyes to rake her form. Looking at the bastard Velaryon- it's rumored that King Aerys had been his father, that Aerys had just been about to set aside his wife Queen Aelinor Penrose for Jeyne Velaryon, who had proven she could birth him a son, when Queen Aelinor had had him killed. 

Rhaelle does not doubt that a Targaryen is his father; 'the blood calls to the blood' is a common enough saying in the Targaryen family, and she can feel it, the part of him that is a dragon, roaring out. She just does not know if it was Aerys- who by all accounts was more interested in scrolls and sorcery than sex. It could have been Maekar, she supposes, but that would make him an uncle of hers bastard though he is and the thought makes her faintly sick.

He goes down the hall and Rhaelle slips inside the Small Council chambers before the heavy doors can close. 

Father, Ser Duncan, and Lord Waters are gathered at the end of the table, talking to one another in low, tense voices. She waits for one of them to notice her, before eventually clearing her throat. 

The three men spring apart like guilty little boys. 

"Rhaelle, what are you doing here?" Her father sighs, and a wave of sadness runs through her because if Duncan or Jaehaerys or Daeron had appeared, Father would not have questioned it. 

Lord Waters looks at her, head tilted and a sly smile on his face; Ser Duncan looks at the space above her head. 

Nervously creeping closer, she starts her tale. 

"Father, Lanai and I went to the Godswood to pray today... and Gayle came with us, though just to go for a walk. While she and I were praying, Gayle came upon something disturbing, near the pond on the back wall. 

We... well, we hid," and here Rhaelle blushes, because eavesdropping is so unladylike "and we oversaw Maegor Brightflame with Cousin Alyssa! Aunt Rhae was there, as well as one girl I recognize from the party from The Vale, but... it looked very much like a chaperoned date! He kissed the inside of her wrists!" 

He stares at her so long that she wonders if she had even spoke when Father, much to Rhaelle's horror, started to laugh. He fell into a pulled out Council chair and laughed.

" _Why are you laughing at me?_ " She shrieks, fingernails digging in to her palms. 

Her Father sobered up immediately. "I'm sorry, my dear. I laugh because Lord Waters," the man nodded his head at the mention of his name, "was just telling me that he had received word during our meeting that Maegor Brightflame and a party- including you, Lanai and Gayle- were found entering and leaving the Godswood around the same time. Ser Duncan said that we needed to interrogate you immediately, that the promise of a crown has been enough to make others forget their duties before. And I said to Dunk and Lord Waters, 'Even if my Rhaelle was knowingly a part of something like this, she'll soon feel so much guilt that she'll spill everything she knows.' And I was right, wasn't I, Ser Duncan?" 

"Indeed you were, Your Grace." Ser Duncan has taken from staring at the space above her head to now staring at the floor between his feet. His cheeks are flushed- as well they should be if he thinks her capable of stealing her brother's crown!- and what he says is barely discernible for his mumble. 

Straightening her spine and trying to look more than her fourteen years, Rhaelle declares, "If you have any questions, you know where to find me. Father, Lord Waters" she curtsies, "Ser Duncan." 

It is empowering to not curtsy for him. 

Father's deep laugh and even Lord Water's chuckling tenor follow her all the way down the hall. 

The next morning, she awakens to three gifts from the Lord Commander. In her bedroom, a lovely bouquet of dark purple lilacs and gladiolus accompanied by white wisteria, her favorite flowers, as well as a plate of cinnamon scones.

And in her solar, a bouquet of bluebells, yellow daffodils, purple hyacinth, a single white iris.

A small piece of parchment was tucked into the iris. 

_**My apologies, Princess.** _

_**Ser (Uncle) Duncan** _

Rhaelle smiled at the note from the man she'd called Uncle until Mother had pulled her aside and told her she must call him by his true title- truly, a man of few words. As she munched on her favorite breakfast food, ' _Apology accepted,_ ' she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The meaning of second bunch of flowers Rhaelle received from Ser Duncan: 
> 
> bluebells: humility,   
> daffodils: regard,   
> hyacinth: I am sorry/please forgive me,   
> Iris: your friendship means so much to me


End file.
